


Boundaries

by walkwithursus



Category: What We Do in the Shadows (TV)
Genre: Bathing/Washing, Caretaking, Developing Relationship, Guillermo's Gay Awakening, Hair Brushing, Hair Washing, M/M, Nudity, Pining, Tenderness, The Homoerotic Line Has Never Been Thinner, Undressing, Unresolved Sexual Tension, soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-27
Updated: 2020-04-27
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:40:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23880067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/walkwithursus/pseuds/walkwithursus
Summary: Guillermo's responsibilities as a familiar are never ending. Attending Nandor in the bath is merely one of them.
Relationships: Guillermo/Nandor the Relentless (What We Do in the Shadows TV)
Comments: 47
Kudos: 379





	Boundaries

Nandor didn’t really have boundaries. At least, not the kind of boundaries Guillermo had internalized thanks to his Catholic upbringing. Physical contact just wasn’t a big deal for Nandor — _modesty_ wasn’t a big deal for him. And, unfortunately, since Nandor was indisputably in charge of their relationship, Guillermo defaulted to Nandor’s comfort level at all times. 

Guillermo had been working for Nandor for six months before the vampire suggested Guillermo come and live with him. Guillermo took it as a suggestion, at any rate. Really, it was more of a direct order, but since it sounded like things were finally progressing in their unholy agreement, Guillermo didn’t object. 

Nandor took him on a tour of the house, and Guillermo quit his job at Panera Bread the next day. Unfortunately, Nandor had failed to show Guillermo his room before he broke his lease, which was admittedly less impressive than the rest of the home. Still, progress was progress, and Guillermo ended up making a tidy penny after selling most of his worldly possessions online in order to fit them in the closet under the stairs. 

It soon turned out that working and living in the vampire residence was significantly harder than anything Guillermo had done for Nandor thus far. His tasks for the last six months had mostly involved running errands; picking up dry cleaning, buying household supplies, that sort of thing. Overnight, he had become responsible for the upkeep of an entire household, and was at the beck and call of his master every moment of every day. 

Guillermo tried to focus on the upside; he was obviously one step closer to being turned himself, and he was finally staying up all night like a real vampire. It would have been cooler if he could sleep during the day like the rest of the house did, but. Whatever. It was fine. His first few weeks living in the house were an adjustment period, but Guillermo was fairly sure he was finally getting over that hump. He could feel his body acclimating to his new schedule, and to the grueling physical labor he was now responsible for. 

Guillermo was polishing a collection of brass doorknobs one afternoon a few weeks after move-in when Nandor suddenly appeared in the doorway. Guillermo stood quickly at attention, eager for any excuse to abandon the task Laszlo had assigned him. 

“Is there something I can do for you, Master?” he asked. 

“Yes,” said Nandor. “I want you to draw me a bath.” 

Guillermo blinked in surprise. It hadn’t occurred to him that vampires would need to bathe, though he supposed they could get dirty like anyone else. 

“Oh. Yes, I can do that,” Guillermo replied, setting the brass polish down on the table in front of him. “Now?” 

“Yes. In the third floor bathroom, if you please. Fetch me when it is done,” said Nandor, and with that he swept from the room, his long cape arcing in the air before disappearing. 

Guillermo put the brass polish away and washed his hands before climbing the three flights of stairs to the third floor bathroom. By the time he reached the top he was out of breath. The whole house seemed to be made of nothing but stairs, even in places that didn’t need them. Guillermo was fairly certain there were some staircases that didn’t even lead to a real floor of the house, and had only been added to make his life miserable. At least he hadn’t had to carry anything up them this time, like the ancient, fifty pound vacuum cleaner. 

Knocking to ensure it was empty first, Guillermo let himself into the bathroom at the top of the stairs. He had cleaned this exact room earlier that week, and thus knew where most of the things were kept. Colorful glass jars lined a row of shelves, none of them labeled. Fortunately, Guillermo had been doing the bulk of Nandor’s shopping for the last six months and knew exactly which ones would be of use to him now. 

With an armload of supplies in hand, Guillermo knelt beside the claw-foot tub and began fiddling with the taps. A week ago this tub had been rimmed with hard water lines and soap scum, but a little elbow grease had returned it to pristine condition. Eventually he got the water to a decent temperature and let it run, clouding the air with steam. Guillermo’s glasses fogged up immediately, and he set them aside as he continued readying the bath, sprinkling in oils and bath salts with real dried lavender in them. At the last moment he added a splash of bubble bath, believing Nandor would get a kick out of it. 

Once the water had risen to a decent level, Guillermo turned off the taps and put his supplies away. He was just about to run and fetch Nandor when the vampire appeared behind him in the doorway, silent as a shadow. Nandor inhaled the fragrant steam and smiled. 

“That smells very good, Guillermo,” Nandor said. 

“Thank you, Master.” Guillermo inclined his head, intending to take his leave and allow Nandor some privacy. He waited for Nandor to stand aside and let him through to the hall, but Nandor did not budge, gazing down at him with an expectant look in his eye. 

Guillermo’s stomach turned over as realization hit him.

“Oh. Y-You’d like me to undress you.”

Nandor nodded incredulously.

Guillermo shouldn’t have been surprised. In the days since he’d moved in, he had been charged with dressing his master in the evening and readying his clothing for bed just before dawn. That didn’t usually involve much, though — Nandor preferred to sleep in most of his clothing, down to his boots. The most Guillermo ever removed were the accessories, capes and cravats and sashes and belts. But unless the Ottomans had bathed with all their clothes on, this was going to be very different. 

_It’s like a locker room,_ Guillermo told himself fiercely — if in locker rooms, guys normally changed each other’s clothes. No big deal. Nandor obviously didn’t seem to think it was, so who was Guillermo to question otherwise? 

Steeling himself, Guillermo began removing Nandor’s clothing in his usual process, carefully folding each piece and setting it aside on the counter. There were a lot of items to go through: the fur-lined cape, the leather belt, the elaborately embroidered mintan, cotton trousers, boots, and stockings. Eventually all that was left was a long white undershirt, cutting off just above the knee. 

Guillermo paused, his heart beating very fast. Not for the first time, he wondered if Nandor was able to hear it, the rapid uptick and accompanying rush of blood. He had read something once in a history book about how in ancient civilizations people used to bathe with their underclothes on. He couldn’t recall whether this had been true for the Ottoman Empire, though. Damn his Western-centric curriculum. Still, it would probably be better to assume that that was the case than to attempt to strip his master of the last article remaining to him.

“What are you waiting for?” Nandor demanded, dragging Guillermo out of his internal crisis.

Guillermo floundered for a response. “I uh, just thought you might like to keep this on.” 

“And ruin my best undergarment?” Nandor scoffed. 

“No! It’s just that, well, I-I’ve read before that in ancient times people used to bathe with some sort of undershirt on,” Guillermo stammered to explain. “Like a chemise, but for men.” 

“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard. In Al Quolanudar everyone bathed naked. How else are you supposed to get clean? Honestly.” Nandor wagged a finger in his face. “And how dare you call me ancient? I’m very modern.”

Guillermo winced. “Sorry, Master.” 

There was no avoiding it now. Keeping his chin raised and his eyes aloft, Guillermo began lifting the hem of the undershirt with trembling fingers, up over Nandor’s thighs, his abdomen, his chest. Nandor had to duck slightly to allow Guillermo to wrangle it off over his head, and Guillermo found himself leaning in on tiptoe, his round belly brushing Nandor’s through his soft sweater. As soon as the garment was off Guillermo folded it and placed it on the counter beside the others, leaving Nandor stark naked in front of him. 

Guillermo had never seen a naked man before, dead or, well, _undead._ Not in person, anyway. When he’d imagined how such a situation might come about, this exact scenario had somehow never crossed his mind. Attending one's employer in the bath didn’t exactly _seem_ common — he certainly couldn’t imagine helping Dave from Panera Bread take off his clothes, at any rate. The fact that it was Nandor was both better and worse somehow. Better in that this seemed the sort of attending Nandor was accustomed to, and worse in that Guillermo would no longer have to imagine what his master’s body looked like, having seen it up close for himself. 

Guillermo held out his hand and slowly helped Nandor into the tub. A gush of water splashed over the sides as the vampire sat down, his long legs disappearing below the surface. Mumbling apologies, Guillermo fetched a few towels and began mopping up the spills before they could sink into the hardwood, grateful for something to keep him busy. 

“It’s a little too hot, Guillermo,” Nandor commented, raising a hand lazily out of the water and allowing water droplets to trickle from his fingertips. There was no real malice in his voice, however, and he looked at ease as he reclined in the water. “Next time make it cooler. And stop crawling around on the floor down there. You are distracting me from my relaxation.”

Guillermo obeyed, shoving the damp towels into a nearby hamper. He clambered to his feet and stood a few feet from the tub. From his height, he had a rather clear vantage point of, well, everything. Guillermo was exceedingly grateful for the bubble bath he’d thrown in at the last minute, which had foamed up nicely, concealing his master from the waist down. Unfortunately, Nandor’s wet, hairy chest was still plenty visible above the waterline, wide and muscular and entirely too distracting. Guillermo stared fixedly at the ceiling to block it out. 

“How do you feel you are adjusting to the new house?” Nandor asked momentarily, catching Guillermo by surprise. 

“Oh. Good, I think,” said Guillermo. 

“Laszlo and Nadja, they are being good to you?”

Guillermo hesitated. He wasn’t sure yet whether or not he had earned the right to complain. Oftentimes when Nandor asked personal questions like this, he appeared to be doing so more out of common courtesy than general interest. Still, he _had_ asked. 

“They’ve been fine,” Guillermo said slowly. “They keep asking me to do things for them. Ordinarily I wouldn’t mind, but sometimes it interrupts me from completing the tasks that you’ve assigned me.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Nandor tossed his head in irritation. “Pay no attention to them. You are _my_ familiar, Guillermo. Mine only,” he said firmly. Guillermo felt a rush of pleasure at the conviction in his master’s tone. “Although, I don’t want to hear that you have been disrespecting them. Do as they say, but do not let them order you around. Do you understand?”

Guillermo didn’t. “Yes, Master,” he lied. 

“Good.” There was a sound of shifting water as Nandor presumably relaxed further into the tub. “Anything else?” 

Guillermo didn’t know exactly what to say to that, so he blurted out the first thing that came to mind. 

“They keep calling me Gary.” 

Guillermo had half expected Nandor to laugh. Instead, the former warlord waved a soapy hand as if this were to be expected. “Do not take it personally. They go through familiars so quickly they often don’t get a chance to learn their names.”

“What happens to them?” Guillermo asked. At the moment, Laszlo and Nadja did not have a familiar, at least not that Guillermo was aware of. He certainly hadn’t seen any other humans walking around the house during daylight hours.

“Oh, you know. They might trigger one of the traps, or be crushed by a chandelier, the usual sort of thing.”

 _There are traps in the house?_ Guillermo wanted to ask. Instead, he voiced aloud a question that had been plaguing his mind for the last half-year. “What happened to your last familiar?”

“That is a story for another time,” said Nandor dismissively. “And now, Guillermo, I want you to wash my hair.” 

Guillermo’s heart skipped a beat. He’d been half-expecting, half-dreading such an order since the moment Nandor had entered the bath. It was one thing to be in the same room as Nandor while he was naked, but to _touch him_ was a line Guillermo had never expected to cross. Though, it wasn’t as if he’d never touched Nandor’s hair before. Guillermo had brushed it out every night since he’d first moved into this house. The only difference was that now it would be wet, and it would be his fingers combing through those strands, not the bristles of a brush. 

There was a small wooden stool beside the tub, presumably for this exact sort of thing. Guillermo slowly lowered himself onto it and rolled up his sleeves. He located what looked to be a battered silver chalice nearby, which he hoped was for getting hair wet. It would be easier than scooping water up with his hands, at any rate, or asking Nandor to dunk his own head. The latter suggestion was liable to earn him a stern talking to. 

“You’ll need to tilt your head back for me,” Guillermo instructed, the goblet poised above Nandor’s head. Nandor obeyed, and Guillermo gently tipped the cup, sending a steady stream of water over Nandor’s scalp. It took several more cups to get Nandor’s hair wet enough for shampoo, at which point Guillermo set it aside and picked up the bottle. 

Emptying a liberal amount of soap into his palm, Guillermo sunk his fingers into Nandor’s damp hair. Slowly, in gentle, circular motions, he worked it into a rich lather, massaging Nandor’s scalp with his fingertips as he did so.

“Ah. That feels very nice, Guillermo,” Nandor sighed, letting the full weight of his skull rest in the cradle of Guillermo’s hands. 

Guillermo said nothing in response. At the moment, he didn’t feel entirely capable of speaking. All of this may have felt routine for Nandor, but Guillermo had never washed another person’s hair before. It was far more intimate than he could ever have anticipated. Nandor was more vulnerable than Guillermo had ever seen him — than perhaps _anyone_ had seen him in a very long time. Guillermo felt a surge of possessiveness at the thought. 

Once Nandor’s hair was thoroughly washed, Guillermo used the goblet to rinse it, careful to keep the water away from his master’s eyes. Trails of white soap trickled down Nandor’s broad shoulders and pooled in the water below. Guillermo applied conditioner next, concentrating on spreading it onto the ends of Nandor’s thick black hair. 

“We’ll leave this one on to sit for a few minutes,” Guillermo said. 

“Fine,” said Nandor. “Add more hot water now, please, Guillermo. It’s cooling down.”

Guillermo obeyed, unstopping the drain to allow some of the cooler water to flood out. As the water level lowered, more of Nandor’s body became visible, including, to Guillermo’s surprise, his navel. Guillermo stared in spite of himself. How strange to think that this vampire had once been _born,_ a human infant, and had not just emerged into the world fully-formed, a creature of the night as he now was. 

Guillermo stopped the drain before too much water could escape and turned on the tap. Once the hot water reached an appropriate level he shut it off and resumed his seat on the stool. Wordlessly, Nandor handed him a yellow sponge. There was no use pretending he didn’t know what it was for. Guillermo gulped, buying himself some time by fiddling with the bottles of bath products. At length he applied a soothing body wash to the material before working it into Nandor’s shoulders. He lifted his heavy hair to one side and scrubbed the back of his neck, then his biceps, his forearms, his hands, taking care to scrub the dried dirt and blood out from underneath his long, talon-like fingernails. 

Nandor’s skin, where he felt it, was unusually warm. Guillermo had become so accustomed to the room-temperature touch of his master that it startled him, as did the red flush just under his skin. Nandor made no move to stop him, and so Guillermo set about washing his chest, mesmerized by the way the soap slicked his black body hair down. It was impossible for Guillermo not to notice that Nandor’s nipples were hard as he passed the sponge over them, and he shot a silent prayer upward that Nandor would not say anything about it. God was good. Nandor said nothing, though his dark eyes remained fixated on Guillermo’s movements, half-lidded like a cat's.

Guillermo dared go no lower, and was relieved when Nandor did not press him on it. For a moment he thought he might be done, until Nandor lifted a long, dripping wet leg out of the bath and rested it against the side of the tub. The bubbles stopped near his upper thigh, concealing his groin, but they would not last for long. Swallowing hard, Guillermo began scrubbing Nandor’s thigh with the sponge, getting it over with as quickly as possible before moving to the safety of the knee. Without warning, Nandor lurched, sloshing a bit more water over the sides of the tub. 

“Careful!” Nandor flicked soapy water in Guillermo’s direction. “That tickles.” 

Guillermo removed the sponge from behind his master’s knee, stroking it down his shin instead. 

“Sorry, Master.” 

Nandor settled, and Guillermo resumed his attentions, carefully scrubbing every visible inch of Nandor’s skin. Washing the vampire’s feet had a very biblical feel to it. Guillermo had never seen him out of his boots before, and couldn’t help admiring them as he passed the sponge over his arch and along the underside of his toes. Nandor hummed warningly, and Guillermo stopped, taking it that Nandor’s feet were also ticklish. He couldn't help reflecting how strange it was that he now knew the most sensitive places on his master’s body. 

With the first leg done, Guillermo switched to the other, leaning a bit further over the tub to reach it. His sweater was significantly damp by now, despite the fact that he’d had the foresight to roll up his sleeves. By the time he was done with Nandor’s second leg, the conditioner was more than ready to come out, and Guillermo once again used the goblet to rinse Nandor’s hair. The bubbles had finally dissipated, but the water was cloudy enough with soap scum that it wasn’t a problem. 

“Is there anything else I can do for you, Master?” Guillermo asked.

“Mm,” Nandor replied, sounding almost tired. “I’m ready to get out now.”

Guillermo fetched a towel and helped Nandor out of the tub, clinging hard to his fingers so that their wet hands did not slip on one another. Nandor did not take the towel from him, and so Guillermo began to dry him off, starting at the top and working his way down. Normally, when Guillermo toweled himself off, he did so fairly vigorously, but since this was his master’s body, Guillermo was far slower, gently patting the moisture from his heated skin.

“You are very red in the face, Guillermo,” Nandor pointed out, one dark eyebrow arched inquisitively. 

“Probably just the steam,” Guillermo lied, not meeting his master’s eye. He couldn’t very well look up right now, or come face to face with something he wasn’t yet ready to acknowledge. In all the years he’d dreamed of meeting a vampire, servicing a naked one on his knees had never really been a part of the picture. 

“Ah," said Nandor. "It makes you look very delicious.” 

Guillermo froze, the towel wrapped around one of Nandor’s ankles. Nandor apparently took this as a fear response and gently placed his hand on Guillermo’s head. 

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to bite you.” 

“I know,” Guillermo said hastily. Being bitten was the _last_ thing he was concerned about.

With his master now majority dry, Guillermo fetched a dark red robe for Nandor and helped him into it, knotting it securely around his waist. It was both a relief and a disappointment to have him covered again, though Guillermo didn’t imagine this would be his only opportunity to help Nandor bathe. Not unless he was to be changed any time soon. Quite frankly, Guillermo thought he might not mind being Nandor’s familiar a bit longer, if it meant he got to be close to him like this again. The thought was more than a little depressing.

Nandor headed out of the bathroom and toward his bedroom, or as Guillermo was learning to call it, his ‘crypt’. Guillermo followed after putting his glasses back on, making a mental note to have the clothing Nandor had taken off in the bathroom cleaned. Once behind closed doors, Nandor disrobed again, and Guillermo began the process of dressing him in clean clothing. Thankfully, putting clothes on Nandor was significantly less erotic than taking them off. 

“No, that’s not how you tie it. Stop. Stop. Let me show you again.”

Guillermo backed off, forcing himself to concentrate on Nandor’s hands as he tied the sash around his waist. Nandor looked striking, as usual, his damp hair curling ever so slightly around his face. Beside him, Guillermo felt particularly inadequate, and looked forward to the moment he could remove his sodden sweater and take a shower of his own. 

Once dressed, Nandor instructed Guillermo on tending his damp hair. Guillermo massaged the usual oils into it and used the soft bristled brush to comb it out, exceedingly careful not to snag any of the attempted curls. For how thick it was, Guillermo was surprised by how fast it was drying. 

"Have you ever thought about getting a hair drier, Master?" Guillermo asked.

Nandor sighed wistfully. "I had one. Bought it in the 80's. It broke."

"Would you like me to get you a new one?"

Nandor considered that for a moment, stroking his fingers through his beard. "Perhaps. It might be nice to try it again."

Guillermo added a hair drier to his mental list of things to get on his next shopping trip. After a few more minutes of fussing, he had finished Nandor's hair and moved on to his beard, which required an entirely different set of combs and oils to maintain. Once done, Nandor stood up from the vanity and turned to Guillermo, sweeping his arms out and completing a twirl. 

"Well? How do I look?" 

"Great," Guillermo admitted, admiring the fine silk waistcoat and ruffled undershirt his master had chosen. He had yet to see Nandor in the same clothes twice. "It's almost sunrise, though."

"I know," said Nandor, already heading over toward his coffin. "But I will be ready for tomorrow."

"Oh, is there something special happening tomorrow?" Guillermo asked, trailing after him. 

Nandor shrugged. "Friday night. We will probably go out." By 'we,' he presumably meant Nadja, Laszlo and himself. Guillermo made a mental note of it as he helped Nandor into his coffin. 

“Thank you for helping me tonight. You don’t know how long it’s been since I’ve had a proper bath,” Nandor said, reclining at ease inside the fur-lined box. 

“You’re welcome, Master,” Guillermo replied, his chest swelling with pride. 

“Perhaps you will take it as an example and work on your own hygiene now,” Nandor continued, raking a disapproving eye over Guillermo’s ragged appearance. “Your sweater smells like mildew."

Guillermo bit his tongue. After everything he'd just done for him, Nandor still managed to find something to criticize. "Yes, Master," he managed, electing not to mention that it was Nandor's fault he was covered in bath water and more than a little frazzled. 

"Good," said Nandor, and with that he pulled his coffin lid shut. “Good night, Guillermo,” he called through the box.

Guillermo picked up the candle snuffer and began the long process of dousing all the flames in the room. "Good night, Master," he replied, putting out the first light.

Later, in his own room, Guillermo lay spread-eagle on his cot, staring up at the descending staircase that was his ceiling. His brain was only now catching up with what had happened the night before, and his body... well, it wasn't far behind. 

"Holy shit," Guillermo muttered to himself, blinking dazedly. "No wonder he had thirty-seven wives."

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Kudos and comments greatly appreciated. I love hearing from you guys!


End file.
